It seems thet every time the Ian Hunter puts pen to paper he winds up tearing a hole in the fabric of reality, transcending the ordinary into something magical, heart rendering and exposing it's true nature previously hidden behind the mundane.

 

I totally disagree and there is no baby in this song

 

[Charlie Scene:]
My legs are dangling off the edge,
The bottom of the bottle is my only friend,
I think I'll slit my wrist again and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone.
My legs are dangling off the edge,
A stomach full of pills didn't work again,
I'll put a bullet in my head and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone.

[Charlie Scene:]
Gone too far and yeah, I'm gone again,
It's gone on too long, tell you how it ends,
I'm sitting on the edge with my two best friends,
One's a bottle of pills, one's a bottle of gin,
I'm 20 stories up, yeah, up at the top,
I'll polish off this bottle, now it's pushing me off,
Asphalt to me has never looked so soft,
I bet my mamma found my letter, now she's calling the cops,
I gotta take this opportunity before I miss it,
'Cause now I hear the sirens and they're off in the distance,
Believe me when I tell you that I've been persistent,
'Cause I'm more scarred, more scarred than my wrist is,
I've been trying too long, with too dull of a knife,
But tonight I made sure that I sharpened it twice,
I never bought a suit before in my life,
But when you go to meet God, you know you wanna look nice.

[Charlie Scene:]
So if I survive, then I'll see you tomorrow, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.

[Charlie Scene:]
My legs are dangling off the edge,
The bottom of the bottle is my only friend,
I think I'll slit my wrist again and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone,
My legs are dangling off the edge,
A stomach full of pills didn't work again,
I'll put a bullet in my head and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone.

[Johnny 3 Tears:]
We hit the sky, there goes the light, no more sun, why's it always night?
When you can't sleep, well, you can't dream,
When you can't dream, well, what's life mean?
We feel a little pity, but don't empathize
The old are getting older, watch a young man die,
A Mother and a Son and someone you know, smile at each other and realize you don't,
You don't know what happened to that kid you raised,
What happened to the Father, who swore he'd stay?
I didn't know 'cause you didn't say,
Now Mamma feels guilt, yeah, Mamma feels pain,
When you were young, you never thought you'd die,
Found that you could but too scared to try,
You looked in the mirror and you said goodbye,
Climb to the roof to see if you could fly.

[Charlie Scene:]
So if I survive, then I'll see you tomorrow, yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.

[Charlie Scene:]
My legs are dangling off the edge,
The bottom of the bottle is my only friend,
I think I'll slit my wrist again and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone,
My legs are dangling off the edge,
A stomach full of pills didn't work again,
I'll put a bullet in my head and I'm gone, gone, gone, gone.

[Petra Christensen, Griffin Boice's daughter:]
I wish that I could fly, way up in the sky,
Like a bird so high,
Oh I might just try,
I wish that I could fly, way up in the sky,
Like a bird so high,
Oh I might just try,
Oh I might just try.

 

None of ya safe
if you find me at the wrong time at the wrong place

 

Death is real
Someone's there and then they're not
And it's not for singing about
It's not for making into art
When real death enters the house, all poetry is dumb
When I walk into the room where you were
And look into the emptiness instead
All fails
My knees fail
My brain fails
Words fail
Crusted with tears, catatonic and raw
I go downstairs and outside and you still get mail
A week after you died a package with your name on it came
And inside was a gift for our daughter you had ordered in secret
And collapsed there on the front steps I wailed
A backpack for when she goes to school a couple years from now
You were thinking ahead to a future you must have known
Deep down would not include you
Though you clawed at the cliff you were sliding down
Being swallowed into a silence that's bottomless and real
It's dumb
And I don't want to learn anything from this
I love you

 

Is this you Justin Bieber?

 

Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
No one will be watching us
Why don't we do it in the road?

Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
No one will be watching us
Why don't we do it in the road?

Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
Why don't we do it, do it in the road?
Why don't we do it in the road?
No one will be watching us
Why don't we do it in the road?

 

Steve Harley - Tumbling Down

Gee, but it's hard when one lowers one's guard to the vultures
Now me I regard it's a torturous hardship that smolders
Like a peppermint eaten away
Will I fight, will I swagger or sway?
Hee hee, my lady, she cries like a baby to scolders
See her tumbling down, tumbling down

Hail to the monkey, we're having a funky reunion
Wasted and sunk, he can only have Sunday communion
He got nicotine stains in his eyes
He got nothing to protect but his pride
Oh! smother the kiss or be drownded in blissful confusion
See it tumbling down, tumbling down

Juvenile tale, see the Tintanic sail into Brighton
The Hemingway stacatto, the tragic bravado can frighten
To be here, there and everywhere's fine
But do you have to be so swift all the time
Deliver the dawn to the Moulin-Rouge on the horizon
Watch it tumbling down, tumbling down
Tumbling down, tumbling down

Oh dear, look what they've done to the blues, blues, blues

 

You're the first one to ever put such critics on Martin Gore, is all i have to say.

Are you stupidly mocking me or j/k'ing?

 

I guess I have inadvertently upset you. Sorry I was stupidly joking.

 

Strawberry Letter 23
The Brothers Johnson

Hello my love, I heard a kiss from you
Red magic satin playing near, too
All through the morning rain I gaze, the sun doesn't shine
Rainbows and waterfalls run through my mind
In the garden, I see
West purple shower bells and tea
Orange birds and river cousins
Dressed in green
Pretty music, I hear
So happy and loud
Blue flowers echo
From a cherry cloud
Feel sunshine sparkle pink and blue
Playgrounds will laugh
If you try to ask
"Is it cool?"
If you arrive and don't see me
I'm going to be with my baby
I am free, flying in her arms
Over the sea
Stained window, yellow candy screen
See speakers of kite
With velvet roses diggin'
Freedom flight
A present from you
Strawberry letter 22
The music plays
I sit in for a few
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh,…

Do you think they were high as a kite?

 

The fact that a 26 year old can write like this is absolutely mind blowing to me.
I don't know if I speak for any pop consumers mentioned here but I could only understand and appreciate the depth of these kinds of lyrics recently. I always had a hard time following words in songs and movies, being able to pay attention to imagery and sounds only, which is why the sonic qualities of music were my only focal point, and missed the real meat of lyrics no matter how hard I would try. It was always very poetic for me to hear Peter Frampton talking with a wah wah pedal, but it was only recently that I was even able to follow the story in a movie and appreciate a good storyline. I say this because I hope to convey a perspective that some who had that mental capacity developed much earlier may not understand, and people like myself have always felt left out of, despite seeing how much I was missing out on. I can only hope that it was just another part of the universal one's great design, ..would these records have sounded as great if everyone with a passion for the music industry was intent solely on songwriting and lyrics? I'm sure there had to be a few more like me who's passion started with a sole focus on the mechanical process.

 

Last edited: Oct 12, 2018

In his 70's Art Garfunkle still has the voice of an angel. Paul Simon's guitar is terribly out of tune.


Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by
The flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

 

I'd need way more to be upset, and i agree about Bieber though

 

I 've seen this vid before, thanks man. I was never a huge fan of the duo although i must say the lyrics of this song shine throughout the ages. What amazes me in the vid you posted is how close the two stand to each other. Like they feed off each other's energy and come stronger from the equation both of them.
Cheers man

 

I've always had an appreciation of evocative lyrics. Where the subtext suggests meaning, open to the listeners interpretation. Here's an Australian band - Cold Chisel and Dresden Blues

The morning breeze is off and gone
The winding factory streets are clean
Old ladies put the kettle on
And all-night lechers pause and lean
On grey shop windows, everywhere
A deeper hum is in the air
Hotel room, drifter leaves no clues

He rides a freight-train out of town
And whistles at the icy rime
The cattle float like thistle-downs
And God is on the edge of time
Somewhere behind a siren wails
The freight-train soars above the rails
The traveller, he's hard as nails
As the train sweeps down the line

The salmon Season's here to stay
And etched into each shoulder-bone
The mark of Cain is on display
As stone above each measured stone
Old Dresden burns above the breeze
The traveller, he's on his knees
He's watching sledge-wings dip and play
So far above the holy throne

 

I think Loverman is a brilliant lyric. I am in awe of Martin Gore.

 

Read 'em and weep.

 

You might like the lyrics to Happy Slave by Paul Kelly And The Coloured Girls then. The song is one big metaphor for the act of sex.


"Happy Slave"

A tug comes on the wire, duty calls me now
She says 'My land is useless and I need some kind of plough'
(She's my kind of driver)
I'm upstanding straight away, I'm ready for my toil
I feel her whip cracking on my back as I dig into her soil
(She's my kind of driver)

I'm burning up her cane, I'm threshing in her barn
She keeps me at my business until I'm breaking down
I'm working way too hard, I never get to save
But I don't mind, I don't mind, I'm a happy slave

And when my work is done I'm ready to explode
Suddenly I'm flying when she takes my heavy load
(She's my kind of driver)

I'm tending to her flock, I'm burning up her cane
I never can refuse her and I never complain
I'm working way too hard, I never get to save
But I don't mind, I don't mind, I'm a happy slave